“Enough!” Grayson bellowed, turning back towards the dais. “Larkin?”
“I am willing to share my memories with Elysia,” she told the chambers. “Including those that led me to the decision.”
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her. Larkin’s responsibility was strength, and she basked in it with her decision to tell the heavens her story.
The room was bathed in silver, cloaking us all before her memories filled the space. My jaw was set tight as Larkin exposed Hunter for what he was. The things he had put her through. The abuse of his powers and the abuse of hers. Scenes tumbled and changed, bleeding into one another. Their marriage dissolved and scenes of the last few days came into focus. Larkin attacking Mabel and finding a vial of liquid. The moment she was at the clifftop, looming over Hunter until she forced the vial into his mouth with all of her strength. It shattered, cutting his lips, cheek, and tongue. It spilled out of him as he choked on it, and Larkin just smiled, leaning in to whisper her parting words.
At the time, when Grayson laid dying in front of me, Larkin looked terrifying. Watching the scene unfold from her point of view, there wasn’t a single moment where she wasn’t in control. She knew what she was doing.
When the memories crumbled away and brought us back into the chambers, the silence was deafening. Gods and Goddesses who were usually so brash and defiant, confident and well spoken, were now pale and at a loss for words. If anyone had proof of the truly monstrous nature that Hunter hid from the heavens, it was Larkin. And she had unapologetically stripped the blindfold away from the rest of them.
“So, if you are looking for justice, then it starts and ends with me,” Larkin said, staring down at Gray.
“Don’t listen to her,” Archer hissed from behind him.
Gray approached the dais again, making a line towards Larkin. His jaw was set and his posture no longer radiated the cool calmness that he had handled everything with so far. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. “Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you tell us?”
“What would you have done?”
“Murdered him myself.”
There was a beat before Larkin sniffed, and said, “I didn’t need your help. I did it myself.”
“Larkin—”
“Well, I can’t take full credit. Quentin was very helpful through the divorce and other matters.”
Gray looked at me, and this time, I didn’t look away.
“She wasn’t on her own,” I told him. “Not once I knew.”
“Do whatever you need to do, Grayson. I won’t apologise for it and I won’t show remorse. I’m glad he’s gone. I’ve waited a long time for that moment, and it brought me nothing but joy.”
Grayson tipped his head back, staring up at the ceiling of the chambers. When he dropped his head and looked at Larkin again, his eyes were wet with tears. “I’ll never be able to apologise enough for what Hunter did to you.”
“I’m not asking you for an apology. You are not your brother.”
Gray nodded, but it was a stilted move. Turning back towards the crowd of minor Gods, he cleared his throat. “Given the circumstances of what we’ve just witnessed, I believe that seeking justice would not be the most appropriate course of action.”
Erik walked past me, making his way over to Larkin, looking like a broken man. He had never approved of their marriage, had probably sensed the way the love between them had vanished, but he’d never understood the horrors that unfolded behind closed doors.
“If there are any objections, I suggest you air them now,” Gray finished.
The room remained silent to the point that it stilled. Not a breath could be heard in the cavernous chambers.
“That’s decided. I think it would be pertinent for us to take a break before we continue with the last item on the agenda fortoday.” He looked over his shoulder at Ignacio. “Release Archer from the cuffs.”
It was as if he had breathed life back into the room. Voices began to clammer over each other and bodies moved.
I prepared to step towards Larkin, but Gray’s voice made me freeze.
“You,” he said, coming towards me with a face like thunder. “We need to talk.”
It was no secret that Gods were capable of despicable things. For some of us, it was part of our responsibilities, and for others, it was just an innate selfishness that drove our actions. But even knowing all that, I assumed there were obvious lines drawn in the sand. Certain atrocities that we would never partake in.
We’d known for some time that Hunter and Larkin were not happy in their marriage. He brazenly carried out affairs and Larkin often walked out of rooms as he entered. But I’d never quite understood why. They didn’t share, and I never asked. None of us did. We assumed they had come to some sort of agreement. That their love was one that required space and tolerance to a higher degree than most.
When I opened the proceedings in the chambers, I imagined there would be more guilt to carry around for the rest of my existence, but I didn’t expect it to come in this form.
